


team

by khayr



Category: Dredd (2012), Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Brotp, Drabble, F/M, Gen, otp: you look ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 13:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s been telling himself he doesn’t need her around for the last three years. Why is it that she’s still tagging along at his heels?</p>
            </blockquote>





	team

He’s been telling himself he doesn’t need her around for the last three years. Why is it that she’s still tagging along at his heels?

 

Tagging along is a relative term, of course. He knows the kid he used to call ‘rookie’ has grown into a true Judge, and one that’s fully capable of holding her own on the streets. She has hundreds (thousands maybe) of judgements under her belt; firefights and recon missions survived with little incident. He still outclasses her on every level and he knows it’ll always be that way. Even after all the shit they’ve seen in Mega City One, her heart is not as hard as his. Perhaps ten years from now it will be, if it doesn’t get her killed first.

 

No, it won’t. He won’t let that happen.

 

He’ll never say it to her face, of course, but they work well together. Maybe it’s the secret bond of Peach Trees after all this time, or maybe she’s just the first Judge that isn’t too afraid to call him out when he’s full of shit. The streets aren’t getting any safer, and each time a corrupted Judge shows their face he finds it more and more difficult to know who’s got his back. Good Judges, Judges he’s known for years suddenly seem to take on a less than friendly shadow. He’s probably being paranoid. Maybe not. His trust has always been hard to earn, and easy to break. It’s kept him alive all these years.

 

Dredd’s been standing at his doorway for the last five minutes, silently mulling over his thoughts. Something stirs him back into the present, and a frown crosses his face. It feels distinctly _Anderson_ , and if she’s messing around in his head…

 

He’s never booked it out of his apartment and into the parking garage so fast.

 

When the elevator opens however, he pauses. It’s Anderson of course, and early for the first time in what must be her entire career. She’s side-saddle on her Lawmaster (parked next to his, a space that other Judges seem to mysteriously avoid). After a moment she finally realizes he’s standing there and turns in his direction, a half-smile curled at the corrner of her mouth. She lifts her hands up, a cup of coffee in each one.

 

“You’re late,” she calls, and the familiarity of her voice is enough for him to head over. He takes the offered cup, and a quick glance at its contents confirms she remembered not to add anything to it this time. A fairly recent memory of a sickeningly sweet cup of what possibly had been coffee (at one point anyway) flickers into his head. He had drank it, of course… though he hadn’t been quite sure why he was against hurting her feelings over bad coffee. He certainly did it to the receptionist at the front desk on a weekly basis.

 

“Not late,” he grunts after he takes a sip, “You’re early.” She rolls her eyes in mock annoyance. There’s no point in arguing with him, not when he’s as stubborn as they come. She’ll fight him on where to grab lunch (if he drags her for noodles one more time so help her god), or even who has to do the paperwork at their end of their patrol… but their debates on which one of them was late or which one early have long left their morning routine. It’s _almost_ an inside joke… if Dredd was someone who enjoyed jokes, that is. Sometimes she wonders if his face will crack if he puts on a real smile.

 

Coffee finished, cups discarded, Dredd settles himself on his Lawmaster and lets Anderson pick their first destination. He’s waiting for the day she picks one that ends in another shitstorm like Peach Trees, but so far her luck has held. “Want a triple homicide to start the day off?” There’s amusement in her voice.

 

He turns to her slowly, and she’s used to him enough to read the expression on the bottom half of his face. “No.” She snorts and continues picking through to find a less ominous one. A quick call in to control to claim it and they’re heading out onto the streets for another long day. Anderson pulls ahead of him on the highway, engine roaring through morning traffic. He’s right behind her. It’s become routine by now, and although he had always sworn he’d never take a partner… she’s had his back for a long time now. Occasionally he wonders if it’s her skill as a Judge or her psychic abilities that carry her along in his wake, but when they’re crawling out of housing blocks and drug busts bruised and bleeding (but still very much alive) he doesn’t need to know.

 

It’s days like that when he doesn’t need to ask himself why he’s allowed her to keep up with him. 


End file.
